


Better Than Wanting

by irisbleufic



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkward Romance, Canon Autistic Character, Canon Disabled Character, Canon Queer Character, Canon Queer Relationship, Caretaking, Consent, Couch Cuddles, Emotional, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, Enthusiastic Consent, First Kiss, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, I Blame Tumblr, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Injury, Kissing, M/M, Mischief, Murder Husbands, Nygmobblepot Week 2017, POV Oswald Cobblepot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Coital Cuddling, Psychopaths In Love, Requited Love, Resolved Sexual Tension, Season/Series 03, Sex on Furniture, Sweet, Tactile, Third Time's A Charm, Touch-Starved, Use Your Words, Words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2019-01-05 16:20:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12193401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisbleufic/pseuds/irisbleufic
Summary: “Edward, I—” Oswald swallowed fearfully, prepared to have entirely misread “—need you to say it.”“Kiss me,” said Edward, eyes widening, overwhelmed in the otherworldly light.  “Do you want to?”[Stand-alone.  Please blamethis lovely anonfor issuing a prompt that sent me back to early S3.  Bonus for the close of Nygmobblepot Week.]





	Better Than Wanting

In spite of how much it pained him to hear Edward cough, the sight of Edward limned in firelight with one graceful hand pressed to his throat stole Oswald's breath. Oswald hastened his approach, offering the cup and saucer as Edward let his hand drift down to his chest.

There was a restrained quality to Edward's smile as he accepted the drink, but his gaze was expectant.

Relieved, Oswald took a seat beside him. Too late, that he'd positioned himself so close to Edward that their thighs touched. Too, _too_ late. He was burning up in a mere fraction of Edward's warmth.

“It's ginger tea with honey,” said Oswald, swallowing the first part of his sentence in embarrassment. “It's my mother's remedy for a sore throat,” he went on, hands nervously clasped as he leaned forward to examine the livid bruises at Edward's throat. “You sure you don't need a doctor?”

“No,” Edward replied, lifting the cup. “I'm fine,” he added quietly, coughing again before taking a sip.

Oswald felt his pulse quicken, fingers knotted together as he watched Edward laboriously swallow.

“I still don't understand why you didn't tell me what you were doing,” he said as evenly as he could.

“Your shock when seeing Butch had to be genuine,” said Edward, methodically, as he leaned forward to place his cup and saucer on the coffee table. He turned to look at Oswald, full of quiet certainty. “The people had to believe it, and they did. And, once again, you're the city's hero.”

Oswald couldn't pretend to understand Edward's impulse to laugh; his attempt to return the sentiment was abortive at best. He fought the impulse to lean closer, desperate to convey his concern.

“But you were almost killed,” he said reticently, setting one clammy, apprehensive hand on Edward's wrist.

Edward glanced downward for the briefest of seconds as he nodded, turning his wrist so that their hands touched. Palm to palm with Oswald, he smiled again, guileless, running his thumb absently across the back of Oswald's hand.

“And you saved me,” he continued. “ _Again_.” He turned his face away, coughing with the effort of speech as he twined their fingers together. “I hope you know, Oswald,” he said, squeezing so tightly that Oswald almost couldn't focus, “I would do anything for you. You can always count on me.”

Oswald stared at him for the space of several stalled, stuttering beats shared between their pulse-points.

Expectant again, Edward mirrored a moment of hushed, hopeful confusion that longed for reassurance.

There was only one reason Oswald could let himself release Edward's hand, as harrowing as it was in spite of his goal. _That_ was to gather as much of Edward in his arms as he could, and to clasp him as close as possible.

Edward gasped almost imperceptibly against Oswald's shoulder as he leaned into the contact. His tense right hand settled at Oswald's hip as his left splayed tentatively between Oswald's shoulder blades.

“Thank you,” Oswald said, unable to contain the sheer giddiness of knowing what it meant to hold him.

Edward tucked his chin more snugly over Oswald's shoulder, patting Oswald's back in a comforting gesture of acknowledgement. His other hand twitched against the plane of Oswald's hip, smoothing over his jacket before fretfully clutching.

 _If I say nothing_ , Oswald thought, tightening his hold, _I'll regret it for the rest of my days._

“I would do the same for you,” he vowed, lips brushing against Edward's ear in a moment of weakness.

“You'd do anything?” Edward echoed, his fingers restless at both points of contact. “For _me_?”

“Anything within my power,” Oswald murmured, anxious as Edward lifted his head. “Is there something you need? Are you _sure_ a doctor wouldn't—”

“Keep holding me,” Edward implored, melting closer, the brush of his lips against Oswald's cheek sending chills through them. “I think I want you to...” He took a shivery, hiccupping breath that swiftly steeled Oswald's resolve.

Oswald sat back and looked at Edward, otherwise maintaining his hold as best he could. He repositioned one hand against Edward's chest, over his heart, while the other arm remained secure around him. He hoped Edward felt safe.

“Edward, I—” Oswald swallowed fearfully, prepared to have entirely misread “—need you to say it.”

“Kiss me,” said Edward, eyes widening, overwhelmed in the otherworldly light. “Do you want to?”

“I can do that,” Oswald agreed slowly, convinced that this was some kind of fever-dream brought on by the heat of the room, by each lick of flame reflected off Edward's lenses. “Yes, I do.”

Least expected of all was the swiftness with which Edward tilted his head and claimed Oswald's mouth. He slipped his tongue past Oswald's lips with a yearning so straightforward Oswald shook with it.

They remained like that for a while, curious and eager between fits of stolen breath. Oswald couldn't have prevented his reaction to Edward's soft hums and sighs, not even if he'd tried.

Edward curled his hand around Oswald's there against his chest, refusing to break contact as Oswald pecked the corner of his mouth. Instead of tangling their fingers again, he flattened Oswald's hand with his own pressed over it, dragging it downward with trembling insistence.

Oswald halted their progress as soon as he realized what was happening, nonetheless dizzy with desire. He flexed his fingers over the warmth of Edward's belly, apologetically slipping his fingers from beneath the dressing gown. He wanted, _oh_. He did.

“You can touch me,” Edward whispered tremulously, words punctuated by a cough. “If you want.”

“You're hurt,” Oswald insisted, but he couldn't bring himself to shift his hand from where Edward was now pressing it with even greater insistence. “And it's a question of what _you_ —”

Edward slid Oswald's hand the rest of the way, gasping as his eyes fluttered and his head fell back.

“Oh,” he breathed, the low, aching rasp of his words too much to take. “ _Oh_ , I do. Want this.”

Oswald kissed him again, hungrily, beyond wondering if the course they'd set was unwise. He snagged the button of Edward's trousers with his thumb, clumsily working it free. The zip wasn't much easier to contend with, but working his entire hand inside seemed effective.

Edward didn't quite manage to swallow the whine that welled in his throat as Oswald caressed him.

“On my skin,” Edward begged, face tucked into the crook of Oswald's neck. “Oswald, _please _.”__

The maneuvering that it took to get Edward's arousal bare in his palm was worth the sound he made.

“If I didn't know any better,” Oswald ventured, lavishing one feather-light caress up the underside until Edward's taut whimper broke on a cry, “I'd say what you really want is for me to take you to bed.”

“I said,” Edward hissed, his teeth latching onto Oswald's pulse-point, a sharp thrill, “please.”

Oswald rubbed Edward's back, flushing with a swell of dazed pride. He knew Edward wouldn't last that long, and he was lovelier by the hearth than any living creature had the right to be. Closing his fingers around Edward's length, Oswald stroked him from root to tip, hugging him closer as the tension in him ebbed, kissing the rosy flush that had crept to meet the marks at his throat.

“You feel so good,” he soothed, awed at the helpless sounds Edward made as he spilled into Oswald's hand and made an unsuccessful attempt to regain his breath. “ _Shhh_. I know.”

“I want...” Edward pressed harder against Oswald, flinching at how over-sensitized he'd become. “I want you to come, too,” he mumbled, feverishly kissing Oswald on the mouth. “How do I...”

“Like this,” Oswald replied, coaxing Edward to sit back. Wincing, he shifted into Edward's lap.

Edward watched in dismay as Oswald shed his jacket on the floor and untucked his shirt, not hesitating to reveal as much of himself as Edward had requested. As much of a mess as they'd made, more wouldn't matter. Edward's hands cradled Oswald's hips, awaiting instruction.

“Here,” he said, guiding Edward's fingers, sighing blissfully as he pushed into the touch. “Your hands, I've... _dreamed_ , Ed. I've wanted...”

“You've dreamed about me touching you,” Edward said, endearingly hazy, stroking Oswald with reverence. “How does this compare?”

“It doesn't,” Oswald whimpered, frantically seeking Edward's lips. “I'm...oh, _Ed_ , I'm too—”

He tugged Edward's hand away, pulling Edward tight against him. The wanting, waves and waves of it, broke over him. He nearly sobbed with the intensity of it, grateful of Edward's hold on him.

“I need,” Edward began, watching him, rapt, palm cradling Oswald's cheek as Oswald quieted. “You, Oswald,” he said, swallowing thickly, pressing them forehead to forehead. “I do.”

“Yes,” Oswald gasped, shivering as he curled his fingers in Edward's hair. “That was...that was the point.” He closed his eyes, nuzzling Edward's temple as laughter finally escaped him. “Can I...this isn't romantic, maybe, but I want to taste...as soon as you're...” He squirmed, savoring the feel of Edward's residual hardness. “How about _that_?”

Edward made a disbelieving sound, caught between pleasure and distress. “You want to blow me?”

“Unless you want me to do something else?” Oswald asked, removing Edward's glasses, setting them aside. “What I want is to take care of you. Do you think you— _can_ you come again?”

Edward nodded, gleam from the flames settling in the depths of his dark eyes without hindrance.

Oswald kissed him, sucking gently at his lower lip. “We're not going to bed until you're satisfied.”

“Risky,” Edward countered, shifting under him with a hint of mischief. “We could be here all night.”


End file.
